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Show j" Florence Harri V?I1 ! f 1 1 YOU ever win nny- jj R tiling in those contests i yen lire .ihvays entering?" i Muriel Wilson queried of her sis-! sis-! ter Agnes. "Not yet," A sines laughed. "F.ut by the law of averages I should win something." "Soon, I'd say," Muriel said grimly. "You've been entering contests con-tests of one kind and another ever since we were infants and mother entered you in a pretty baby contest." con-test." "That's where I began my losing. If I'd won then I'd probably have kept on winning like these people we read about who live on what they make from contests." "Phooey !" Muriel scoffed. "What makes you do it, anyway?' "Just my love of adventure. I'm really a born gambler in a discreet way, or course. That's why I write for my living, just to see if my brain children will find a place or come back home to me." "Was it your love of adventure, or gambling spirit or whatever you call it, that made you turn down Harold Ryan three years ago when he came home from college with his cousin Fred to spend the holidays? Now, why did you do that, Agnes? He was everything everyone would want in a husband looks, family, money, and aren't we always told that marriage is the great adventure?" adven-ture?" "Maybe it is an adventure but what sort of a gamble is it to marry mm Hi Harold Decided to Deliver the Prize in Person. a man who already has everything. No. I preferred to gamble with my own career." "And now that you've made a sue- I ces where is the gamble in It?" Muriel carefully stuck a sprig of holly In the knot of her red tissue ribbon. "Since you ask me so pointedly, Muriel dear, I think, perhaps, if Harold lost his money during the depression, as so many did, and if he were to present himself now as a man winning his way through his own efforts, I might trust myself to adventure along with him. But, I fancy, it is too late. He's probably found some less adventurous soul ere this." "Most likely," Muriel answered, as she rose to answer the door bell which had been persistently ringing. "Guess we're home alone." She hurried hur-ried down the stairs. Five minutes later she was back, trying vainly to refrain from any show of excitement. "Some one on business for you, Agnes. He's the persistent kind, insisted in-sisted he had to see you right now." "Oh, well, all right. I'll go down and get jt over with." Agnes took off her smock and departed. Muriel heard Agnes' surprised ejaculation, but it was some time before she was summoned to join the two in the living room below. "Muriel is just dying to congratulate congratu-late me," Agnes gayly greeted her younger sister. "Ilehold, sister mine, I've actually won in a contest. You see, Harold is managing editor now of the paper that was running this particular contest. When the judges were sort of stuck as to which of three people had won second sec-ond prize they referred the matter to him and, recognizing your honorable hon-orable sister's name among the three, he immediately decided in her favor and came, in person, to deliver de-liver it." "But I thought it was for another reason I was to congratulate you." Muriel did not try to conceal her disappointment. "There is," Harold answered promptly. "I Vet Agues speak first. But the reason I have for bringing Agnes the prize in person was tc see if I would win this prize pep-son." pep-son." Just then the door of the rwm adjoining was thrown open and another an-other overcoated yonns man appeared. ap-peared. This time it was Agnes' turn to show astonishment: "Of all things, Fred Ryan! Have you been there all the time?" "Sure thing. I came with Harold, a sort of moral support. You see, Muriel and I have our wedding all planned. Let's make it a double one !" To which bright idea they all joyfully joy-fully agreed, hugging one another and shouting "Merry Christmas!" . Western Newspaper Union. |